Magic Fingers
by dharmamonkey
Summary: What might have happened had Booth talked Brennan into staying with him at the end of "Princess and the Pear." Told from Booth's POV. Props to Lesera128 for the story idea.


**Magic Fingers**

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><p><strong>By:<strong> dharmamonkey

**Rated:** M

**Disclaimer:** _Hart Hanson owns Bones. But people like me who play in his sandbox give you all those delicious little moments that Hart and friends leave out. In this case, an AU imagining of what might have happened at the end of "Princess and the Pear" (4x15) had Brennan stayed to keep Booth company that evening._

**A/N:** _This piece is a Christmas gift!fic for my erstwhile coauthor, Lesera128. She wanted me to give her a piece wherein Booth seduces Brennan at the end of Episode 4x15. This crazy piece is the result. Enjoy!_

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><p>At first, after she did her thing—that chiropractic thing where she threads her arms under my armpits, over my shoulders and holding the sides of my head, then doing that circular, twisting thing she did—and I heard my back go pop, I'll admit was a little afraid to move. In fact, I was basically terrified, considering after the last time she tried that, my back hurt so bad that even breathing was painful.<p>

I'd just stood up to let her do her thing when I heard a knock at my door. "It's open," I called out. Then Bones did her thing, my back went _pop, _and in walked Agent Perotta with a brown paper grocery bag in her hands and an extremely sheepish look on her face.

"Oh! I didn't," Perotta blurted out awkwardly. "I thought you said the door was open."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Bones jumped in. "It is open," she said. "I'm done. I'm just leaving."

Perotta stared at us, wide-eyed, like she'd just caught us _in flagrante delicto_. "Oh! No, no, no," she said hurriedly. "I just, _umm, _brought some chili I made, but, um, I'll just leave that there, and you can, _umm_." She set the brown paper bag on my kitchen counter. She must have seen the look on my face, when she asked, "Are you all right?"

Again, I was about ready to answer when Bones said, "Yeah, he's fine now!"

At that point, she removed her hands from the side of my face and slid her arms out from under my armpits but she continued standing right behind me.

"I gotta tell you," I said, not sure at that moment whether I was talking to Bones or to Perotta. "I'm a little afraid to move."

Bones told Perotta, "He's fine. Please, you stay."

Perotta shot us a strange look, her eyes darting from Bones to me and back to Bones. "Oh, I can't," she stammered. "You stay."

Bones walked towards the door and said, "I gotta go. I can't stay."

Suddenly, I found myself standing in my living room, still half-high on Vicodin, watching Perotta walk out of my apartment with Bones right on her heels. Maybe it was the Vicodin, and while I felt a little confused at that moment, I knew one thing for certain: I damn well didn't want to spend the evening alone. Actually, I knew one other thing for certain: I knew exactly who I wanted to spend the evening with me, and she was about ready to walk out the door to my apartment.

"Wait, now nobody's staying?" I asked as Bones began to walk out my door, lingering in the doorway for a few seconds as she held onto the outside doorknob. "Bones," I said. "Wait up!"

She hesitated for a moment, looking back at me as I took a couple of steps towards the door. I winced for a moment, bracing myself for the shooting pain I expected to feel as I lunged for the door and grabbed the handle. But, in fact, I felt nothing. Suddenly, my back did feel a lot better. Amazingly better, in fact.

"Booth?" Bones said, probably in response to the strange look on my face. "What is it?"

"Come on, Bones," I said, reaching out and touching her wrist. "Don't leave me alone—please." I leaned my head a little to one side and gave her the best pleading puppy-dog-eyes look I could muster.

"Please, Bones. I've been cooped up in my apartment all by myself all week while you, Perotta and the squints have been running around solving murders." She stared at me, a couple of fine lines crinkling across her forehead. She was going to make me work for it—I could tell.

"Come on, Bones. The least you can do is stay with me for a little while. Now that you've fixed my back, you know."

She let go of the door handle but shook her wrist free of my grasp. "I don't see why your back being _fixed _is any reason for me to stay," she said. "In fact, it seems like a good reason why I should go, so you can go about enjoying the rest of your evening, Booth."

_Oh, come on, Bones, _I thought to myself. Maybe it was the Vicodin talking, or maybe—more likely, I suppose—the Vicodin silenced that other little voice in the back of my head that was the one that always talked me out of making a move on Bones, but in any case, at that moment, I made a split-second decision to go for it. To hell with the line, to hell with the FBI's non-fraternization policy, to hell with everything else that had held me back for the last three and a half years.

I decided I was gonna go for it—in epic fashion.

"Come on, Bones," I said, my voice just a hair shy of a whine. I was determined to pull out all the stops. "Please—stay with me."

"Booth," she said, rolling her eyes a little as she stepped back into my apartment. _Bingo, baby, _I noted as I tried to suppress a smile.

"Hey," I said, putting my hand on the small of her back and nudging her away from the door as I pressed it firmly closed. "We can order a pizza, I've got beer in the fridge—"

"You can't drink beer," she said, a certain patronizing tone in her voice. "Vicodin is a mix of acetaminophen, better known as Tylenol, and hydrocodone, an opiod narcotic. You shouldn't be mixing either of them with alcohol, Booth."

I laughed. "No, no, Bones," I assured her. "I don't need beer—I was just saying that I've got beer if you want one, or two, you know. I'm gonna be just fine without a brewski until the Vicodin wears off."

She shrugged and set her bag down on the floor beneath the bookcase where I store my FBI service pistol and stash my keys.

"Okay," she said, brightly enough but with a twinge of caution in her voice. "Want me to call Salvatore's for you?" she asked, walking over to my fridge where I had a magnet with their phone number on it.

I thought about it for a second. At that moment, I had one goal in mind: for her to stay. Well, to be honest, I had two goals in mind, but in order for Goal #2 to come to fruition, I had to get her to stay there long enough to have a couple of beers, snuggle up next to me on the couch so I could execute on that Goal #2. I gave it a second of thought, and decided that even Bones—my curiously clinical partner with that squinty prism through which she viewed the universe—had a nurturing side to her, and so I decided to give her a chance to let that nurturing flag fly, hoping that it might encourage her to stay a while longer than she would if I, you know, seemed a little less helpless.

I shrugged. "Sure, Bones," I agreed. "The usual, right? Half meat-lovers, half veggie, okay?"

She sighed, rolled her eyes at me again but I saw a smile peeking through as she plucked the Salvatore's magnet off my fridge and grabbed my cordless phone to dial.

As I listened to her order the pizza, I tried to figure out my next move. I walked over to the fridge, grabbed a Yuengling for her and a can of Sprite for me. I bit my lip as I overheard her squintify the previously un-squintifiable process of ordering a pizza, then popped the bottlecap off her beer and cracked open my soda. She'd just hung up the phone with Salvatore's when I handed her the beer.

"Thanks, Booth," she said.

"Sure thing," I replied. "Thanks for staying to keep me company, Bones," I added with a little waggle of my eyebrows. "And thanks for fixing my back."

"No problem, Booth," she said as she raised her bottle of beer.

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><p>Thank God for Turner Classic Movies.<p>

No, I mean, seriously. It sure saved my bacon on this one, I'll tell you.

After we finished the pizza, and Bones her third Yuengling, we went back into my living room to watch a movie. A couple of Netflix movies were sitting on my coffee table but I knew none of them would appeal to Bones. There was _Vanishing Point, _a classic 1971 "road movie" in which the main character, a Vietnam vet and ex-cop, leaves Denver on a Friday night to deliver a white 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T 440 Magnum to San Francisco by Monday morning. It's a great movie—full of terrific scenery, great car chases, naked hippy chicks on motorcycles, really cool black counterculture DJs—but anyway, totally not a Bones kind of movie. The second one, _Casino Royale _(the Daniel Craig version), was one I'd seen before but that one was also out because it was totally not a Bones kind of thing—I can totally imagine the endless harping I'd hear on her end about the anthropological _blah-blah-blah_, and I wasn't really in the mood for that since, well, it wasn't going to set the mood for me achieving Goal #2, even though there were some pretty sexy scenes in the movie. And the third one was _The French Connection, _which still sat in its red envelope, unopened, because, given the Vicodin haze I'd been in for the last few days, I knew there was no way I'd be able to follow the plot's twists and turns. Also, suffice it to say, not a Bones kind of movie.

Bones underestimates me a little—not as much as other people do, mind you, but even she still falls for my 'I'm just a simple, hockey-playing, beer-drinking cop from South Philly' _schtik_, even after four-odd years of working with me. She should know better, really—I mean, she's the one that went and read up on my background early on in our partnership, which was kind of weird in and of itself, since she just could've got the same information if she'd have asked me, but be that as it may. She knows I started off college at Penn State as a scholarship athlete, but lost my scholarship after wrecking my shoulder in my freshman season, after which I dropped out and joined the Army. She also knows I took correspondence courses while I was in the Army, and that I used the GI Bill to pay to get my criminology degree at Penn when I left the Army after coming back from Kosovo with a wonky lumbar disc. So, I may be a simple, hockey-playing, beer-drinking cop from South Philly, but I have an Ivy League degree. And she knows it. You'd think that kind of a thing would make her less likely to underestimate me, since Lord knows Bones doesn't ever forget a damn thing with that photographic memory of hers, but maybe it just goes to show how good that _schtik _of mine actually is.

It was with the knowledge that Bones underestimates me that I lured her into my Boothy little trap. So we retired to my living room. I'd had to change my shirt after a pizza accident—I'd managed to dump a big wad of tomato-sauce, gooey cheese and meat on my T-shirt after a half-slice worth of pizza toppings slid off the slice as I was taking a bite—so I was wearing one of my old white wife-beater T-shirts with my gray, drawstring sweatpants, which I'd made sure to wear nice and low on my hips. I fetched another beer for Bones (her fourth), sat down on my couch, propped a pillow up behind my back, and leaned back, my legs slightly open.

Bones shot me a strange little look.

"What?" I asked innocently, making no effort to suppress my grin this time. From this point forward, I was going use that grin for all it was worth, because I knew it was key to letting that guard of hers down.

For once, she seemed to be caught speechless—proof positive that miracles do happen, right?—and, without further ado, she sat down on the couch next to me. I clicked on the TV, just in time to catch the opening credits of _Roman Holiday _on TCM. I lucked out, sure—the movie was a light romantic comedy with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, released back in 1953—but, hey, it's better to be lucky than good, right? And my goal was to get lucky, with Bones, that night, and if a little bit of good movie programming on the part of TCM was going to lend a helping hand, who was I to complain?

So, she sat down next to me on the couch, her shoulder leaning against my knee, as the movie started. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't paying attention to the movie at all, and all the dialogue basically came into my head sounding like the teacher in the Charlie Brown movies—that nasal _bwa-bwa-bwa-bwa-bwah, _you know—because the fact of the matter was, I was focused on one and only one thing: the way Bones looked and felt sitting there next to me, leaning on me. As the movie went on, I put my hand on her shoulder, and after a few minutes, I squeezed her shoulder a little with my hand. A few minutes after that, I leaned forward a little—because my back was feeling much, much better—and I let my hand slide across her shoulder to the top of her back. I turned my hand a little and stroked my thumb across the soft, smooth skin at the base of her neck, and she made a sound, like a soft little sigh. The sound of her sigh sent a tingle down my spine and I felt my balls hitch a little. _God, you're so hot, _I wanted to say. But I let my fingers do the talking. I leaned forward a little more, and brushed the back of my knuckles against the curve that connects those milky white shoulders of hers to that elegant graceful neck.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her eyes not once turning from the TV. I stilled for a moment my movements as a grin broke across my lips.

"Touching you," I said quietly.

"Why are you doing that, Booth?" she asked, her voice inquisitive, without an inkling of irritation.

"Because," I said with a soft chuckle. "It feels really, really good."

"You think so?" she asked, finally turning her head to look at me. She had that crooked, one-sided smile that I'd seen her smile before, and the other times I'd seen it, it was so sexy it nearly undid me on the spot.

"Absolutely," I said, my voice dropping a half-octave as our eyes met. "I love touching you," I said, a tiny thread of caution running through my voice. _Come on, baby, _I urged her silently. _Come on._

"Has that been the case for a long time, Booth?" she asked, her voice rising a little at the end of the question. Her eyes glistened with something that I hoped was interest, but I still wasn't sure.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Since—well, since the very beginning." I hesitated, then remembering that I had a certain amount of plausible deniability in my favor thanks to the Vicodin, I decided to go all-in. "You're really hot," I said with a waggle of my eyebrows. "I think I've told you that before."

She shifted a little against the cushion and turned to face me, running her hand up my shin—I could feel her fingertips skate across the hair on my lower leg as she did it—and bring the palm of her hand to rest on my left knee. "I seem to remember that vaguely," she said, her eyes twinkling as she kept up that sexy half-smile.

"You're definitely hot, Bones," I said, placing my hand on top of hers and rubbing my thick, stubby fingers across her slender ones. "Sometimes you drive me crazy with how hot you are."

"Really?" she replied, pulling her hand out from underneath mine and rubbing my shin once more. All she was doing was touching my leg and I felt that raw, tugging sensation in my gut that told me I was about to start getting really hard.

"Yeah," I said, my voice nearly a grunt. "What about you? Do you think I'm hot?" I was going for broke here.

Her gray eyes flickered again as she considered her response. "Well," she began, "I must have thought so in the past because I seem to recall propositioning you for sex once."

I coughed. "Yeah, and then you waved me off just before takeoff there, Bones." She narrowed her eyes and gave me a strange look. "Ever wonder what might've happened if—you know, what it might've been like?"

"Sometimes," she replied, the tone of her voice showing she was hedging a bit. "Do you?"

I licked my lips and took a deep breath, trying to collect myself as she kept rubbing her hand up and down my leg. "All the damn time," I admitted. Her hand moved around the side of my leg and I felt her cup my calf with the palm of her hand. "Wanna find out?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said, shooting me that sexy, toothy half-grin of hers again. "What about you?"

"Definitely," I said, my voice husky as hell as I tried to keep myself from coming in my pants at the thought of it. _Easy boy, _I told myself. "The movie's kind of boring anyways," I said. _Doh! _I cringed a little at the clumsiness of my last play, which made me wilt a little in disappointment.

"You have something better in mind?" she asked, that half-smile of hers breaking into a full-on lascivious grin as her own voice deepened with obvious want. That grin, and that voice, and that question, was everything I needed to know I was clear for take-off.

"Yeah," I groaned, grabbing her hand and dragging it along the inside of my thigh to my crotch so she could feel how hard I was for her. "Yeah, I had other ideas," I said, hissing a little as I felt her fingers uncurl from a fist and stroke against me. _Oh, fuck._

"As much as I like Gregory Peck," she said with a laugh, "I find you've made a persuasive case that there are alternative ways we can spend the balance of the evening." She made a humming sound in her throat as she stroked me again through my sweats. "But you must be tired," she said teasingly. "Maybe—" She closed her fingers around my cock, and between the soft fuzzy insides of my sweats and the firm pressure she was applying, I couldn't help but arch my hips against her hand. "Maybe that Vicodin has you sleepy still."

"Fuck no," I said hoarsely, pushing her hand away as I slid my sweats off my hips and onto my thighs. I never wear boxers with my sweats when I'm at home, and thank God in that instance I didn't, because I slid those babies down and my cock sprang out, hard and ready, when she reached back and wrapped those slender, gorgeous fingers of hers around me. "Oh, fuck," I groaned as she started stroking from root to tip.

"I would not have guessed you were uncircumcised, Booth," she said, her voice husky despite the squinty-as-hell way the comment came out.

"Like I said before, Bones," I whispered. "I'm a constant surprise."

"Indeed you are," she said, letting go of me as she slid towards the other side of the couch.

My mouth dropped open as my lust-fogged brain struggled to figure out what she was doing and how to get her back to doing _that_ as quickly as I could. She reached for the waistband of my sweats and pulled them off my legs. I peeled off my wifebeater T-shirt and tossed it behind the couch. She stood up and took off that tight, stretchy red cap-sleeved shirt she'd been wearing all night—which looked far sexier by itself than it did hidden away under that not-so-sexy plaid jacket she was in when she got to my place a few hours before. I'd been stealing glances at her fantastic cleavage all night, and just about came right then and there when she peeled that top off to reveal a really sweet dark red, demi-cup, push-up brasseire.

"God, Bones," I groaned. "You're beautiful," I said, closing my fist around my cock and stroking myself lightly as she bent over to remove her slacks, giving me an even better view of those incredible tits of hers.

"You're cheating," she said casually as she toed out of her shoes. "You're getting started without me," she said with a wry grin as she unfastened her slacks.

"Not at all," I croaked. "Just enjoying the view there, Bones."

Bones let her slacks fall to the floor at her feet and graciously stepped out of them. She wore a delicious bikini that matched that hot little push-up bra, and she stood there, letting me take her in with my eyes, for a couple of long seconds before she reached between her tits and unclasped her bra. She let the bra, too, fall away as my mouth gaped open at the sight of her fantastic breasts.

"You have amazing tits," I said to her, squirming a little as a raw jolt of desire shot down my spine all the way to the tips of my toes. "Damn," I whispered as she slid her hot red panties over her beautifully rounded hips and let them shimmy down her legs to the floor. She was simply incredible—the most amazing thing I'd ever laid eyes on—and I felt myself get harder just looking at her.

"You like what you see?" she asked.

"Come 'ere," I grunted, not wanting to answer her with words. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, then saunted back to me. I slid over and turned so my back was against the back of the sofa. She walked over and gently swung her leg over my lap so she straddled me.

"You like how I look, Booth?" she asked, her voice strong and confident.

"Oh yeah," I moaned as I cupped her tits in the palms of my hands, pressing them together to admire the wonderful cleft between them. "You're fucking amazing. I always knew you were hot, Bones, but God—you're fucking incredible."

I gently squeezed one of her tits as I bent my head down to take her nipple in my mouth. I twirled my tongue over the hard point of her nipple and then gave it a firm suck, unable to resist smiling against her flesh as she hissed at the sensation. I pulled my mouth away and admired my handiwork, the way her coral-hued nipple had hardened, the areaola so nicely and lickably pebbled, and the hard, erect point that I just couldn't resist teasing as I brushed my lips across it.

"Oooh, Boooooth," she moaned, grinding her hips against my cock. "Touch me," she whispered, her pale eyes snapping open to stare into my eyes, letting me know exactly what she wanted. I let go of her breasts, bringing one of my hands around to rest on the top of her ass, just below that little place in the small of her back where I'd rested my hands—over her clothes, that is—a thousand times before. I ran my right hand over her flat, smooth belly, over her thigh, dragging my knuckles across the silky skin on the inside of her thigh before finally arriving at my destination. "Ohhhh, fuck—Boooth…"

"I love it when you say that," I said, unable to suppress my grin as she arched right against my hand. I hadn't even touched her yet, and she was fucking soaked.

"Touch me," she whispered.

And who was I to resist?

I brushed the flat of my knuckles once against her damp curls, but hearing her growl, I knew it was time to give her what she wanted. I rolled a strand of her lust-soaked curls between my fingers for a moment or two, then stroked her with my index and middle fingers, starting at her creamy, wet opening and gathering a bit of moisture before sliding my way up to her clit. Smoothing the way with her own wetness, I began to draw little circles with my thumb against her, my own breath hitching as I heard her breaths rise and fall harder and faster with each stroke.

"You like that?" I asked, squeezing my eyes shut briefly as I tried to hold myself together. I wanted inside of her so bad, I literally thought I would die, but she felt so good, so wet, I knew it was gonna be well, _well _worth the wait. "Oh, fuck, Bones, you're so wet." I kept rubbing her clit as I slid my middle finger inside of her. "And so damn tight," I whispered. "So fuckin' tight, and wet, and you feel fucking awesome." She began to moan, her voice rising higher and louder as I kept rubbing those circles and pumping my finger inside of her.

"Oh God, Booth," she groaned as I felt her tighten around my middle finger, grinding against my hand to draw me even deeper as she shattered, her warm, wet folds fluttering around my finger as she slowly came back down to earth.

"That was awesome," I said to her, sliding my finger out. "That was—" My words were cut off as she clasped my jaw between her hands, pulled our faces together and covered my mouth with hers. My lips parted and I felt her tongue invade my mouth, and in that moment I remembered the two other times I'd tasted her. She twirled her incredible tongue against mine before she pulled away.

"I want to feel you inside of me," she panted. "Right now."

"Yeah," was all I could think of to say as she raised herself up off my lap. She swung her leg over my lap. "Wha—?" I was about to protest when she turned around and straddled me again, facing away from me.

"The angle of penetration will be more satisfying for both of us this way," she said as she grabbed my cock with her delicate fingers and lined me up underneath her opening. "Yessss," she hissed as she rimmed my tip around the creamy entrance to her pussy. I sucked in a breath at the mind-shattering sensation when she lowered herself onto me.

"Oh, God," I moaned as I felt her warm, wet, tight, creamy pussy envelop me. "Oh, _fuck!" _

She began moving up and down, somehow clenching herself around me each time she took me inside of her as if she was trying to milk me from the inside out. I swallowed hard as my eyes rolled back into their sockets, and it seemed like my entire world had collapsed into the tiny space between her legs. I held her hips in my hands and tried to guide her movements, slow her down a little, but she had this incredible, unstoppable momentum, thundering as she was towards her second release, and once again a little voice in my head asked me who the fuck I was to stop her. She squeezed my cock inside of her with each stroke and I felt myself quickly spending toward a massive, mind-ripping orgasm. I reached around and brought my fingers to her clit.

"Oh!" she gasped as I smiled into the smooth skin of her back. I used my two forefingers to rub her clit as I jerked my hips up, trying to send myself as deeply inside of her as I could. "Ohhh…fuck..._Boooooth_...oh…fuck" I could feel her begin to free-fall as her exclamations dissolved into a series of moans and sharp, inarticulable gasps. The moment she shattered again, drenching me in her come as she fluttered around me, I felt myself break.

"Oh, _fuck!" _ I shouted as I exploded inside of her with one last upward thrust.

We stayed that way, my hands on her hips, staring at the gorgeous, ivory plane of her back, pressing soft kisses on the gentle curve where her slender shoulder met her neck, as each of us struggled to catch our breaths.

"Ohh," she whispered, the first of us to break the silence.

"Yeah," I whispered back. "Whoa…"

Another minute or two passed before either of us spoke, the only sound between us being rise and fall of our breaths and the faint sound of the kisses I was laying on her shoulder.

She turned her head to the side, and I kissed her temple.

"You know, Booth," she said quietly. "I doubt that movie would have been nearly as enjoyable."

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><p><strong>AN:**

_So, how 'bout them apples? Did you like that? _

_The fact is, I can't really bribe you with the threat of withholding future updates because this, my friends, is a one-shot. However, you know how desperately I crave feedback. This is my first time doing a full-on, 100% Booth POV smutty oneshot. How did I do? Was it Boothy enough?_

_Press that little review button and do your thing._

_Yes, that one—right down there. That's the one._

_Thanks!_


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